Cupcakes For Mrs Hudson
by ImNotAPsychopath
Summary: I really wish I knew Mrs. Hudson's birthday... Reviews are love


Cupcakes for Mrs. Hudson

7-11-2012

Sherlock sat in his chair, balancing on his toes, hands placed together under his chin in his normal thoughtful gesture, and his face scrunched up in concentration.

John was sitting in his own chair across from Sherlock's, reading a book, and sipping some tea while his eyes continued to flicker from Sherlock, back to his book, then back to Sherlock.

After a few minutes, Sherlock sighed causing John's gaze to flicker to him again.

"Sherlock?"

"What, John?" Sherlock snapped. "I'm trying to think and you staring at me isn't helping."

John blushed. "I-I wasn't –" He stuttered but Sherlock cut him off.

"Don't bother. You know very well you were and there's no use lying to me." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

John sighed and let it go. "Alright, so what are you thinking?"

"It has occurred to me that Mrs. Hudson's birthday party is tonight –"

"Only because I reminded you!" John exclaimed indignantly.

"_Regardless_ of how I got this information," Sherlock shot him an irritated look at being interrupted, "I still need to figure out a gift."

John snorted. "Why don't you deduce something she wants and run to the store quickly?"

"_Because_," Sherlock said impatiently, annoyed at John's tone, "First of all, that would ruin the point of a surprise –"

"You hate surprises."

"_Secondly_," Sherlock continued, ignoring John's interruption again. "I thought since you don't have a gift either –"

"I do too!" John snapped, setting his book down and glaring pointedly at Sherlock.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and John blushed, caught in the act again.

"Right. Sorry." John muttered before turning his attention back to the book.

"_Continuing_, hopefully without anymore interruptions," Sherlock shot John a pointed took and John grumbled as he leaned further into the seat of his chair, "I was thinking we could perhaps share ownership of the gift we give if and when we figure out what we will give her."

"Come again?"

Sherlock sighed heavily through his nose. "When we decide what to get her for her birthday, we can say that both of us got it for her. Better?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You do realize I would only reword my sentences for you to understand, correct?"

"So what are we going to get her?" John ignored Sherlock's second question.

"That's what I'm trying to think of."

"What about clothing?"

"No. It's what you get for children when you don't know what else to get them."

"Jewelry?"

"Too tacky and if it's not her style she'll get rid of it secretly. Like that necklace you got her for Christmas."

"She loved that! Told me herself! And she wore it the next day!"

"You obviously didn't notice the way her smile faltered for exactly zero point two seconds and her eyes became one-eighth tighter when she opened the package. Also, you didn't observe her garbage bag was point three ounces heavier than a normal Christmas."

"Oh bugger off, Sherlock!" John snapped, standing up in his fury, and beginning to stalk out of the room.

"John, wait." Sherlock called him softly, the plea barely laced into his voice. "I still don't know what to get Mrs. Hudson."

John paused, debating on whether or not he should tell Sherlock to figure it out himself. _'You still have to figure out what to get her.'_ His thoughts reminded him gently. _'Your jewelry that you were planning on looking at tonight is obviously out and two heads are better than one.'_

John sighed heavily before turning to Sherlock, a scowl on his face. "Fine," He growled. "I'll help but only because I still have to get Mrs. Hudson something anyways." Sherlock smiled and began to speak but John cut him off. "And as we think of what to get her, you are going to answer my suggestions with a simple yes or no, understand?"

Sherlock nodded.

"If you insult me even once or put one comment on why it would be a terrible idea, I'm leaving."

Sherlock nodded again and John reluctantly got up to sit on the couch as he pulled up his laptop. Sherlock stood from his chair and joined John, leaning against him and placing his head in the crook of John's neck to get a better look at the computer. John blushed heavily and cleared his throat lightly but John didn't move, worried the movement would irritate the detective further. And besides, he was actually quite comfortable with this position.

"John, what about that?"

John blinked and looked at the screen where Sherlock was pointing to an e-mail from Harry.

"What about it?"

"Why don't we make the food from the recipe she gave you?" Sherlock peered up at him from underneath his eyelashes in such an adorable way, it made John swallow from the urge to kiss those cupid bowed lips.

John didn't even bother to ask how he knew the e-mail contained a recipe mostly because he didn't care. He swallowed again before clicking on the e-mail, trying very hard to ignore the fact that Sherlock was still looking up at him from underneath his eyelashes.

Inside was a cupcake recipe. Of course.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Sherlock?" John frowned slightly. "It's quite rich and it makes a lot. Do you think you'll eat any at all?"

Sherlock snorted. "It doesn't matter if I'll eat it. It's for Mrs. Hudson after all."

"Yes but I'm pretty sure she won't eat all of it either."

"Then make a smaller serving. You can do that with baking."

"To a certain point, yes."

"Well then let's do it!" Sherlock jumped up from the couch and practically skipped, yes the great Sherlock Holmes was _skipping_, to the kitchen.

John chuckled softly so Sherlock wouldn't hear him before shutting his laptop and placing it on the coffee table and joining him in the kitchen only to discover Sherlock had already gathered all of the ingredients.

'_He couldn't have been planning this,'_ John thought as he looked at the kitchen, bewildered. _'Could he?'_

"Here are all the ingredients you will need for exactly one and a half batches of cupcakes." Sherlock smiled. "I highly doubt you'll need anything but if you do, then I'm sure I can have Lestrade pick something up."

"Sherlock, you can't just have Lestrade pick up whatever we need," John said, exasperated.

Sherlock pouted. "But he picked up the yellow paint I needed."

'_So that's how he got the smiley face up there without leaving.'_ John rolled his eyes. _'Definitely having a chat with Lestrade then.'_

"I'll be examining your progress so work swiftly and effectively," Sherlock continued.

"I am _not_ doing this by myself, Sherlock." John narrowed his eyes.

"Didn't you _listen_?" Sherlock asked, irritated. "You won't be working alone. I will be here to make sure you're doing your part of the job correctly."

John's eye gave an involuntary twitch before he sighed. "You know, if you want the job done right, you have to do it yourself, right?" He tried.

"Not true." Sherlock shook his head. "If you educate the right people in the right way, then they can do it to almost your exact replication."

John sighed, irritated but not at all surprised his attempt at getting Sherlock to do some work other than what was involved in his regular cases didn't work. What had he expected? John sighed again before nodding and beginning to set out the ingredients.

Hopefully it would be as painless as possible.

John wanted to kill himself.

Correction, he wanted to kill Sherlock.

That man was possibly the most infuriating perfectionist alive. No, not possibly. He _was_ the most infuriating perfectionist alive. John was surprised that he still had hair from all the times he'd tugged on his gold locks in frustration.

"_No, that's too much flour. You put two more grains in than it should have."_

"_You're supposed to stir counter-clockwise twice then clockwise three times, John."_

"_You whisked the eggs one time too many."_

Did he really have to continue?

Basically, he had ended up finishing the batter when –

"No!" Sherlock's face was the mask of pure horror.

"What now?!" John snapped, turning to face Sherlock fully.

"It's vanilla." Sherlock's voice carried an air that implied this was the full extent of explanation needed which of course, it wasn't.

"What's wrong with vanilla?" John became slightly more miffed. Vanilla was one of his favorite flavors.

"It's so…" Sherlock's nose scrunched. "_Plain_."

John had enough. He snapped.

"I'm _sorry_." His voice seeped in sarcasm. "I'm only making the damn things and I thought with vanilla that we could add more things to it. My mistake. Maybe since you have such a great idea on what we should do with the things, then you could make them, _hm_?!"

Sherlock looked at John, a thoughtful look on his face.

"What?!"

"It seems I have upset you somehow."

John gaped at him for a moment, temper rising quickly. "You think?! I didn't bloody realize!" He snarled before turning to the frosting which was finished after two hours of Sherlock's complaining and pickiness.

"You didn't?" Sherlock asked drily. "I thought even you would've picked up on your emotions –"

"Good thing I was being sarcastic then!" John snapped, trying to breathe calmly and failing miserably. He must control his rage. He must not let the soldier side break though. He must not become the Hedgehog. He must not –

"Oh, is that what you were being?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't tell over you being wrong all the time."

The comeback wasn't even that good but it did enough.

"That's it!" John snarled, grabbing the bowl of frosting and turning to face the now wide-eyed and wary Sherlock. "Come here, you ass! Let's see if the frosting is good enough for your perfectionist judgment!"

Mrs. Hudson hummed happily as she slowly traveled up the stairs to Sherlock and John's part of the flat. Such nice boys those two were. No doubt they were going to give her a wonderful birthday gift tonight. Well, hopefully Sherlock would push John in the right direction. Usually it was the other way around but John's taste in jewelry was rather… flashy.

'_It would be wonderful if they got me a new hip.'_ Mrs. Hudson smiled, only half teasing as she limped up the stairs. _'Or if they confessed to each other.'_ She smiled. That probably wouldn't happen anytime soon. Both boys were sweet and smart but at the same time they were so stupid that even Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes at them.

Finally she reached the door to their flat. She knocked lightly, hearing John's voice, before entering and walking in. They weren't in their usual chairs although John's table next to his chair had a mug of tea judging from the string hanging from the top of it. She could still hear John.

"Boys?" she called, walking hesitantly into the kitchen. She hoped they weren't fighting. She hated it when they were fighting. They should be –

Mrs. Hudson didn't even notice that the whole kitchen, from the floor, to the cabinets, to the countertops, to the fridge and oven doors, to the chairs, and even to the ceiling was covered in frosting splatters. She didn't notice the bowls and pans scattered about. She didn't notice the chairs tipped over. All she could focus on what was on the floor.

Or, more specifically, _who_ was on the floor.

John's jumper was discarded a few feet away from where they both were and his undershirt was ripped. Sherlock was wide-eyed, mouth full of frosting, robe half off of him and shirt ripped as well. They were both splattered with frosting as well.

But most importantly, in Mrs. Hudson's eyes, was that John was straddling Sherlock and holding a spoon full of frosting, a slightly guilty look on both their faces.

"Mrs. Hudson, we can explain –" John tried to explain but the gleeful look on Mrs. Hudson's face stopped him.

"No need, dear." Mrs. Hudson smiled happily. "I know exactly what's going on here."

"N-no, you _really_ don't –"

"Let the woman explain what she thinks, John." Sherlock had somehow magically swallowed the frosting in his mouth. "I'm curious."

John gave him a fierce glare. "Shut it or I'll shove more frosting down your throat." He hissed.

"Don't mind me, dears." Mrs. Hudson continued to smile. "I'll just be leaving now so you two can have some fun." She winked devilishly before ducking out at such a speed no woman her age or with her hip should have.

'_Finally!'_ Mrs. Hudson giggled. _'This was the best birthday present ever!'_

"Mrs. Hudson!" John cried out before gritting his teeth. "Damn it! She's gone." He turned and glared down at Sherlock murderously. "This is your fault, you know."

Sherlock smirked mischievously. "Obviously."

John glared at him in suspicion. "You planned this from the beginning, didn't you?"

"Obviously."

"You're an ass, you know that right?"

"Obviously."

"Shut it and let me taste some of that frosting, will you?" John leaned over Sherlock and roughly placed his mouth on Sherlock's.

After a moment, John broke the kiss and licked his bottom lip experimentally. "Could use some more sugar," He murmured before licking some frosting off of Sherlock's cheek, then trailing gentle nips down his neck, licking up any frosting he spotted.

"There's some on the island." Sherlock murmured back, his breath hitching slightly as John hit a sweet spot on his neck.

"I was thinking something a little sweeter." John murmured against Sherlock's neck before returning to his mouth.

Looks like Mrs. Hudson got her birthday wish.

~End~


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